Page 9 of Royally Roma
Only him.
Julia would have made an excuse and bowed out of leading him around for the day if she’d feared for her safety, though. Sure, she needed the money. Didn’t she always? She’d been so far in the red for the past six months that she’d forgotten what black looked like. But she drew the line at risking death or dismemberment. Definitely.
Probably.
Thankfully, her current charge wasn’t exactly giving off a serial-killer vibe, dressed as he was in an impeccable coat and tie. And he was a guest at the most exclusive hotel in Rome. The last time she’d checked, the Hotel de Russie didn’t cater to ax murderers. Surely the impression that he could slay her with a single glance was only in her head. He definitely had an air about him, but it was an unusually elegant, commanding air rather than a threatening one. Even if he did keep looking over his shoulder as if he thought someone might be following them.
But what did Julia actually know about spotting a potential psychopath? History had proven that her judgment was less than impeccable. She didn’t exactly have the best track record in the men department. Case in point: Elio.
Or as Chiara liked to call him,l’enorme errore.The huge mistake. And that he’d been. The hugest.
Chiara had liked Elio well enough in the beginning, and for some crazy reason, Julia found that comforting. As if perhaps she hadn’t been the only one fooled by his charms. Valentina, on the other hand, had despised him on sight. There’d been a great deal of growling and carrying on the first time he’d slept over at Julia’s flat, which in retrospect should have been a sign. Then again, Valentina disliked all men.
Relax. This is a guided tour, not a date. The current situation couldn’t be further removed from romance.
She stole a glance at the man beside her as they crossed the piazza and caught him watching her. Studying her with piercing gray eyes, as though she were some sort of science experiment. Which at the moment was rather appropriate, since something electric had begun skittering through her. Rebellious sparks that set her skin aflame. God, what was wrong with her?
She looked away, fixing her gaze on the horizon, on the verdant cypress trees swaying behind the ancient Roman wall that surrounded the gardens of Villa Borghese opposite the Hotel de Russie. As much as she hated to admit it, she found this man’s cultured bravura unnerving.
The Italians had a word for it.Fascino fatale.Fatal charm. Julia’s father had been no stranger to it. With little more than a wink and handshake, he’d convinced some of the most powerful people in America to entrust their life savings to his investment firm. Even after his long list of misdeeds had finally been exposed, some of his clients still refused to believe someone so utterly charming could have stolen from them. It was mind-boggling.
Fascino fatale.
Elio had possessed it in spades, which was enough to make Julia wary of this new stranger. Because his elegant hands and penetrating gaze made Elio seem like a child.
Besides, the situation still felt odd. The bartender had stared openly at them when they’d passed. Her client either hadn’t noticed or had chosen to ignore it, but he’d hastened his steps. Even now, as they walked away from the hotel, she found herself hurrying to match his pace.
“Did you rob a bank this morning or something?” she asked, pausing at the curb where she’d parked her Vespa along the uphill path to Villa Borghese, Rome’s most frequented public park.
He turned, finally realizing that she was no longer beside him. “Pardon?”
“Why do I feel like we’re fleeing a crime scene? You’ve booked me for the entire day, remember? There’s no need to rush.” An entire day. How would she ever last that long with this overwhelming sense of awareness?
She wrapped her arms around herself. A barrier of sorts. His gaze darted around as if he was expecting someone to pop out from behind a nearby bush. Seemingly satisfied that the coast was clear—of what, exactly, she had no idea—he retraced his steps and joined her. She pretended not to notice the natural grace in his strides or the warmth that coiled in her belly as he walked toward her.
“You might want to slow down, especially given your footwear.” She pointed at his shoes. They looked new. So new that she could see her reflection in the shiny black leather.
He frowned. “What’s wrong with my footwear?”
“Nothing. They just don’t look all that comfortable, and we have a lot of walking ahead of us. Also, the forecast calls for rain.” She stared pointedly at his tie. That was a first. She’d never had someone show up for a guided tour in a necktie. Not once. “Are you sure you don’t want to change clothes? I can wait while you pop back round to your room if you like.”
“No, that’s not possible.” He shook his head so hard that she thought it might snap right off his neck.
And it was an awfully handsome head. It would be a shame to see it rolling down the cobblestone streets.
“I don’t mind waiting.” She glanced at her watch. Eight fifty-five. “We’re ahead of schedule anyway.”
“I’m fine like this. Perfectly comfortable.” He cleared his throat and loosened his tie an imperceptible fraction of an inch.
Way to cut loose.
“I apologize, miss. I’m simply anxious to begin the tour,” he said.
Miss?He was calling hermiss?Who talked like that?
“Call me Julia. Please,” she said. Those seductive lips of his curved into a half-smile and Julia was struck with the immediate impression that he could swallow her whole, if he chose to do so.
She cleared her throat. “All my clients do, I mean.”
